fig and balsamic onion pressed sandwiches

so remember that focaccia?

the one that was good, but maybe

just a little flat?

i found a great, if not indulgent,

use for it: pressed sandwiches.

even though i sent a few squares

home with jenn, it was quickly

evident that i should have given

her more. we were only two

people, what were we going to

do with that much bread?

i was driving to work when

grilled cheese popped into my head.

very quickly, other ideas came

tumbling out: the mission figs that

were already in the fridge (or

should it be the nectarines that

were sitting on the counter?), the

maidenhead i bought from our first

monmouth county farmer's market

(or maybe instead the gorgonzola that was

nearing its final days?) and red onions

(definitely red onions).

as the day went on,

i wavered: should i put the nectarines

in the sandwich and add wedges of figs

to arugula for a side salad? would the

blue be too much? should i add arugula

to the sandwich? nuts? would the onions

be better cooked first? is it a mistake

making grilled cheese with a thick bread

like focaccia? could i just stop my brain

for five seconds? who in the world

spends this much time thinking

about a sandwich that is going to serve

two people after work on a weeknight?

finally, i turned to my office mate and asked,

would you rather have figs in a sandwich

and nectarines in a salad or

nectarines in a sandwich and

figs in a salad?

she took me seriously (i think) and said,

figs in a sandwich.

that was it - i would obsess no more.

when i got home,

i immediately diced an onion and tossed

the pieces into a pan with leaves of rosemary.

as they softened, i opted for the maidenhead,

a local semi-soft cheese, washed with

flying fish beer. the flavor was much stronger -

and dare i say, stranger - than i had remembered

from the farmer's market: kind of smoky -

but clearly it was not smoked - somewhat grassy

and pretty pungent. but, it was now or never,

so i grated the wedge down to fine shreds,

hoping that the tiny pieces would

encourage melting when they were layered

between two thick slices of bread.

i cut the focaccia into squares,

halved both horizontally and set the

bottoms on a plate.

by then, the onions were brown -

i tossed in a splash of wine

and a couple tablespoons of balsamic vinegar.

as they cooked down to something

slightly syrupy, i turned to the figs:

purple, plump and first of the season.

as i sliced them thinly, i realized how

many coins i could get from just one small

fruit. so, i cut three and placed the rest

back in the fridge.

and that was pretty much it.

yes, i had to assemble them.

it went something like this:

and then, yes, i had to cook them,

which was not even slightly an

oh-n0thing-to-it moment. you see,

even this thin focaccia is still focaccia

and it's a pretty fat bread as grilled

cheese sandwich bread goes. as soon

as i placed it in the skillet - i do not

have a panini press - i knew they were

not going to cook well in their natural

state. after quickly scouring the kitchen

for something to weigh them

down with, i finally opted for the one

thing easily available: my hands.

i will admit, the pan and bread

were not very hot (yet) and i do have

fingers that can handle quite an

unnatural bit of heat. so, i pressed

hard and took a deep breathe before

the first peak. and - they were flat!

when the bottom was a beautiful

golden brown, i flipped the squares,

replaced the foil and put my hands

back on top of the sandwiches. i

persevered, but i'm not going to lie -

they were much hotter this time.

(i will take this space as the first

opportunity to say that i am in

no way recommending this method.

i will tell you again, below, in

the recipe, not to use your hands.)

when i was sure they were

sufficiently squished, i ran into

a flurry, tossing wild arugula into

a bowl, thinly slicing nectarine wedges

and tossing them, along with some

toasted hazelnuts, in with the greens.

the salad went onto a plate and a minute

later, was neighbored by fig and onion

grilled cheese, expertly (ha!) pressed

and just waiting to prove that it

was a sandwich worth obsessing over.

(good news: it was.)

fig and balsamic onion pressed sandwiches

i think this recipe almost qualifies as a non recipe. it seems silly to give you one, but in the end, we really enjoyed these sandwiches and i wanted to tell you about them. i urge you to look at the directions, below, as a guideline. not crazy about a cheese with funk (even though the maidenhead mellowed considerably when melded with the other ingredients)? use mozzarella, italian fontina or a mix. think you would love blue? add a few sprinkles on top of the fillings before cooking. wish i used that nectarine? go for it. not crazy about rosemary? that's fine - use thyme, a little sage or nothing at all.

oh, and there's this again: i don't have a panini press and even though i spent many years at a magazine telling people to just use a brick placed over foil, i don't own a brick. so, i did something that worked perfectly, but that i can never in good faith recommend: i used my hands and my body weight to great result. however, i have to admit, that the process was rather warm and probably, bordering on dangerous.

1 1/2 teaspoons olive oil

1/2 large red onion, peeled and chopped

1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary leaves

1 splash white wine (i'm sure red would be good, too)

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

5-6 ounces semi-soft cheese, like cherry grove farm's maidenhead

2 sandwich-size squares focaccia, halved horizontally

2-3 large mission figs, top and bottoms trimmed and thinly sliced

in medium skillet over medium heat, warm olive oil 1 minute. add onions; sprinkle with kosher salt and stir in rosemary. cook 15 minutes, or until slightly softened and golden, stirring often. (if they start to brown too quickly, turn the heat down to medium-low.) add splash of wine to skillet; add balsamic vinegar. turn heat to medium-high; cook 2-3 minutes, or until the liquid has been reduced, stirring occasionally. remove from heat; let cool slightly.

meanwhile, using small holes on box grater, grate cheese; set aside.

place bread bottoms on clean flat surface. divide onion mixture evenly over bread bottoms. top with fig slices. divide shredded cheese over figs, pressing to adhere. add focaccia tops; press slightly.

in large skillet coated with cooking spray (don't yell) or olive oil spray, over medium to medium-low heat (depending on how hot your stovetop runs), carefully place sandwiches. top with foil and brick or whatever other very safe method you choose to use to weigh them down. cook 3-5 minutes, or until golden brown on the bottom, pressed and the filling is starting to meld together, checking to make sure the bread does not burn. flip sandwiches; press again and cook 3-5 minutes more, or until golden, pressed and cheese is melted. transfer to cutting board; halve. of course, if you have a panini press, you're lucky - use that instead.

the best thing i've made in 2010: onion panade

2010 has not been so hot,

food-wise.

we brought in the new year

with a dinner, that i've said,

was ok, i guess.

and then the next night,

after i spent hours saying,

i was going to make fresh pasta,

but instead watched a lot

of law and order: svu,

i boiled up a pot of dried spaghetti

and tossed it with sage and grated parm.

that was followed by huevos rancheros

that may have been ok,

if i didn't somehow overcook the eggs,

chickpea patties that were like

bland hockey pucks,

potatoes that i

smashed with the bottom

of a glass (on purpose)

and then kind of

burnt to a crisp (not on purpose),

a pasta, cauliflower and horseradish

dish that needed lots of hot sauce

to enjoy and a salad dressing that was

way too garlicky for the

perfectly good salad i carefully assembled.

when dinner goes wrong,

it's a bummer. but when dishes

are unsuccessful several days in

a row, you start to doubt yourself,

and seriously consider turning to

meals made outside the home.

but then, you find a recipe.

one recipe, that miraculously

goes according to plan,

doesn't surprise you along the way

and in the end, is exactly what

you were hoping for

and maybe, even more.

for our wedding anniversary,

larry put the

give-paper-for-one-year rule,

into brooke terms

and gave me a cookbook.

the art of simple food,

by alice waters, to be precise.

the thing is, i'm not that simple.

i can taste the difference

between an unbelievable tomato

and a good tomato.

and i can appreciate the brilliance

of someone taking that

amazing tomato and drizzling

it only with a few drops of olive oil

and a couple sprinklings of

really good salt.

but most likely - and maybe, sadly -

in my hands, it wouldn't stay that way.

i like what comes of mixing together

spices and herbs and vinegars.

and i like what happens when something

is sauteed or roasted or combined

with something a little wacky.

so, i glanced through the book

and saw, what i consider,

good basics. there was a list

of pantry essentials,

recipes for fruit salad and

different methods for preparing

rice, a garlic and olive oil sauce

and cheese omelets.

and yes, i know this is alice waters.

and i know and love a lot of what

she has done, what she is still on

a mission to do. i just like a little

more oomph.

but, for some reason,

page 262 stopped me. i had never

heard of a panade before - which,

now after conducting a ton of research,

seems ridiculous. but here, it was,

a panade, featuring very simply:

onions

thyme

stale bread

gruyere

parm

chicken broth.

simple. and sounding pretty much

like the ingredients for french onion soup.

i loved the idea of a panade:

you prepare all the ingredients

(saute the onions,

slice and toast the bread,

grate in the cheese),

and then you layer them all

together in a casserole dish

and bake for 1 1/2 hours.

when it's pulled from the oven,

it should be intensly flavored soup.

and to my delight - on another absolutely

frigid winter night - it was. after baking

for 45 minutes, i pulled the foil off and

cooked until the top was brown and bubbly.

when i first opened the oven,

i couldn't believe how much it all smelled

like bread pudding, or how beautifully

the top had puffed up. but, of course, unlike

bread pudding, this is an eggless recipe

and the soup deflated fast.

when i scooped into it,

the bread pudding wafts were a distant memory,

instead replaced clearly by

the scents of a very rich onion soup.

even the chicken broth - maybe not so optimal

for those of you who swear by beef broth to make

the heartiest, boldest variation - transformed

thanks to those golden onions

and thin layers of cheese,

that have been jumbled together, first in the oven,

and then in your bowl.

once scooped into individual dishes,

it's not gorgeous, but who needs gorgeous

when you've got delicious?

and yes, delicious is not a very

imaginitive word. but it's simple and fitting,

and maybe, sometimes, that's not so bad.

onion panade

adapted from the art of simple food

this is the perfect sunday night soup - it does not require a lot of attention, especially once the onions are out of the pan, but it does take time that you may not have on a weeknight.

i used a 2-quart dish instead of the 1 1/2 quart casserole indicated, so i upped the ingredient amounts just a bit - i've listed my changes below. i also realized later that i was meant to heat the chicken broth before adding it to dish - i didn't and i don't think the soup suffered (but, apparently, i am not doing so well in the basic reading department lately). also, when making this, i used my method of caramelizing onions, instead of the one in the book. it took about an hour (instead of the 45 minutes waters called for).

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 large sweet onions, peeled and thinly sliced

2 or 3 thyme sprigs (or 1/2 - 1 teaspoon dried thyme)

kosher salt

1/2 day-old italian or country-style loaf

1/2 cup grated parm

3/4 cup grated gruyere (i used aged)

3-5 cups chicken or beef broth (i used chicken)

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

in large skillet, heat olive oil over medium-high heat. when hot, add onions and thyme; cook 5 minutes, stirring often. reduce heat to medium low and cook 30-35 minutes, or until very soft. increase heat to medium and cook 15-20 minutes, or until onions are a medium golden brown, stirring often.

meanwhile, heat oven to 350˚f. thinly slice bread; place slices on a baking sheet and bake 5 minutes, turning once, or until dry, but not brown.

in bowl, mix together grated parm and grated gruyere.

in 2-quart baking dish, place single layer of bread (the recipe did not indicate, but i did cut bread to make sure the bottom was completely covered). top bread with half the onions, spreading evenly; sprinkle with half the cheese mixture. top with second layer of bread, remaining onions and another third of cheese. top with remaining bread and sprinkle with remaining cheese.

place baking dish on baking pan. carefully pour broth down the side into the dish, taking care not to disrupt the layers, until the top layer of bread begins to float. dot with butter.

cover; carefully transfer baking pan to oven. bake 45 minutes. uncover dish and bake 20-30 minutes more, or until the top layer is golden brown and crisp. (after 30 minutes, i put the broiler on for a couple more, just until the top had a few golden spots.)

something to count on

i've said before that there are

few recipes that i repeat.

while some plates that come

out of our kitchen are delicious

and worth an encore performance,

there are just too many things

out there for a dish to be

made multiple times.

and with that in mind,

the meals that i do make

with some regularity,

would probably be surprising.

they're most likely not the most

gorgeous

or the most amazing,

but they offer some things

even better:

comfort, security

and a sure bet.

and that's how these

stuffed mushrooms came to be

and why they keep coming back.

one day, years ago,

when i was bored with every

possible dinner idea,

i challenged myself to think

about what foods i not only

enjoy, but actually crave.

and, if i'm being fair, i think

i was also trying to remember

what was in the fridge.

i had a bag of spinach

in the cooler

and sweet potatoes

on the counter.

a strong believer that spinach

should usually be paired with

garlic, the cloves were a given.

with more thought, i decided

that golden sauteed onions

would add sweetness to

the greens.

by the time i had landed on

dicing and roasting the sweet potatoes,

i thought i had a

solid

hearty

easily pairable

side dish.

it was a start. so i headed to

the store to find its main meal match,

hoping for inspiration.

i didn't make it through produce

before spotting large portobello mushrooms,

and realizing that earlier in the day

i had unknowingly created a filling.

and now? i had stumbled upon its vessel.

the first time i made them,

i was cognizant of the fact

that i clearly was not making

these the simplest way possible.

dicing the sweet potatoes

before roasting them,

steaming the spinach,

squeezing it dry,

adding in chopped garlic,

sauteeing the onions,

stirring everything together

with some grated parm

and then stuffing everything

into the large scraped mushroom.

but it was good.

really good. hot and full of flavor

and very fulfilling for being,

well, a vegetable full of vegetables.

and so, through the years, i've

stuck to the method,

sometimes sprinkling some

feta over top before baking

and serving the caps with

with brown rice

or a big salad.

and i know this sounds sort of

dainty or maybe not like something

that a person who loves food would

want to eat, but i will stand by

these mushrooms.

and i think larry will, too.

i haven't made them since blair

came over in the fall,

when i had the wacky idea

to make a couple different kinds

of stuffed vegetables. not in the kitschy

type of way, but more in the hey,

these would probably all taste really

good together - like a veggie tasting plate -

sort of way. blair, larry and i ate

them together. blair, telling larry,

he was lucky - a compliment that meant

so much, i didn't know where to put it.

recently, i saw beautiful, perfectly

round, deep mushrooms in the store -

screaming to be stuffed.

i placed the sweet potatoes into

the oven and started cooking the onions.

larry walked in, and seeing the spinach

and mushrooms on the counter, actually said,

oh! that's exciting, we haven't had these in a while.

my first thought was that it was slightly sad,

a testament to what he is served around here,

that a veggie-stuffed mushroom made him happy.

my second thought was, that, he's right.

they are good.

i think i was distracted,

thinking about it the bizarreness of it all,

but i looked

at the browned onions and garlic

and thought, why do i spend the

extra time dirtying an extra pot to

steam the spinach?

so i tossed it into the onions,

topped it with a lid

and let the greens steam.

a few minutes later,

they were perfectly wilted

and it was so much easier to stir into

the onions. i sprinkled in grated parm,

very proud of myself for eliminating

a step (and quite befuddled as to why

i had never experienced this moment

of brilliance before), and then i saw it:

all the water seeping into

the bottom of the pot.

that's why i don't do this.

the spinach must be drained,

squeezed of all excess liquid or

it will certainly make the whole thing

a wet, soggy mess.

but now the cheese was in

and the onions and - oh,

get over it, i yelled at myself.

i threw a colander in the sink,

poured in the spinach mixture

and pressed.

i was really bummed,

knowing that i was losing

the cheese (the last of what we

had in the house), that no doubt,

i would lose a few onions

and absolutely some garlic.

but once i put the now significantly

dryer spinach mixture back in the

pot and added the sweet potatoes,

i noticed that the filling was not

so much worse for the wear and

in fact, everything was incorporating

much better than usual.

i'm torn about whether this is the right

method, but it worked.

we were out of feta this time,

so we went without cheese on top,

but to be honest,

it wasn't missed.

the onions and sweet potato

still added deep caramelized touches,

the spinach a subtle bitterness

and the parm,

a great creaminess working

to unite all the ingredients.

for us, this mushroom is dinner.

easy,

no worries,

no recipe,

always reliable,

dinner.

but for you,

if you cannot imagine

this acting as a solid meal,

i think it would make an

excellent side dish.

or - and i've never tried this,

but i've often thought about

it - stuffed into cremini mushrooms,

a yummy vegetarian option

for a cocktail party.

or i suppose,

the spinach and sweet potato

mixture could

morph back into

its intended non-filling form:

a hearty side dish.

spinach and sweet potato stuffed portobellas

the more i think about it, the more i realize that although the method doesn't make a whole lot of sense, i think that next time i would make them the same way that i did during the "mistake." i just liked the way that all of the ingredients mixed together. if it's too impractical for you, simply saute the onions and the garlic. steam the spinach separately and when cool enough to handle, squeeze dry, then stir into the onions. also, make sure that you season well with salt and pepper. when you're dealing with simple ingredients like this, the seasoning makes a huge difference. i've made this both ways many times - with peeled sweet potatoes and without - and i've decided i like it both ways, so i'll leave it up to your personal preference.

and one last t thing, i've never used mushrooms that were so round and deep before. usually, i just buy two, large, equally sized shrooms, and often, they lay quite flat. so don't worry if that's all you find.

1 large sweet potato

2 teaspoons olive oil

1 medium sweet onion, peeled and finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped

1 bag (6 ounces) spinach

2 tablespoons grated parm

2 large portobella mushrooms, caps wiped clean with a damp paper towel and stems carefully removed

kosher salt

cracked black pepper

heat oven to 425˚f. peel potato if desired. dice potatoes into evenly-sized pieces. spread out on a foil lined baking sheet, coated with cooking spray. coat potatoes with cooking spray or mist with olive oil. season with salt and pepper. roast 20-25 minutes, or until golden and tender, flipping once. reduce the oven temperature to 350˚f.

meanwhile, in skillet or medium saucepot, heat olive oil over medium-high heat. add onions and cook 10 minutes, or until golden brown, stirring often and lowering the flame if they start to burn or brown too quickly. stir in chopped garlic and cook 1 minute. add spinach; cover and steam 2 minutes. remove lid; stir together. stir in cheese. pour spinach mixture into a strainer and let drain, pressing a bit to release excess liquid. return to pot; add roasted sweet potatoes and stir to combine.

meanwhile (yes, there are a bunch of meanwhiles in this recipe), use spoon to gently remove gills from the mushrooms. it will be a bit messy, but worth it. the gills, when left in, not only produce excess moisture, which can make everything runny (thereby negating the fact that you just dirtied your strainer to drain the spinach), but also add bitterness. season the mushrooms with kosher salt and pepper. place mushrooms on foil-lined baking sheet (if the one that you used for the sweet potatoes is in decent shape, there's no reason not to re-use it).

divide filling evenly among mushroom caps. sprinkle with feta or extra parm, if desired. bake mushrooms 25 minutes, or until the filling is hot and the mushrooms are tender.